


In Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert...

by WritingQuill



Series: Prompts et al [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Girls Kissing, Holiday getaway, Jarene, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingQuill/pseuds/WritingQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>... here she was, lounging decadently on a deliciously comfortable wooden chair outside a gorgeous café in the small village of <i>Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert</i> in the south of France. Janine looked over to her companion sitting across from her, sipping her red wine with a small grin, and smiled.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>gift to <a href="http://subtxts.tumblr.com/">subtxts</a> on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert...

Janine sighed into the warm summer breeze, staring up at the radiating sun as it embraced her cheeks and lips and shoulders and feet. Her hair was tied up in a loose ponytail and thrown over one shoulder, and she had given up her large wicker hat in favour of enjoying the rays of sunshine that were so rare in Britain. Though she wore sunglasses, her eyes were still closed as she simply revelled in bliss. 

They’d needed a break from all of it. All of it being Sherlock-John-Mary-Magnussen-Mycroft-Government. All of it being Moriarty. London. Terrorists. Clients. Paparazzi. It was all so stressful, and they’d needed to get away. At least that’d what Janine had been secretly thinking for weeks until the day when she got home to an envelope that included a air ticket and packing instructions. A few days later, and here she was, lounging decadently on a deliciously comfortable wooden chair outside a gorgeous café in the small village of _Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert_ in the south of France. Janine looked over to her companion sitting across from her, sipping her red wine with a small grin, and smiled. 

‘What?’ asked Irene softly, putting her wine glass back on the table and settling back on her seat, gorgeous as always. She wore a baby blue sundress which, along with her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, brought out the paleness of her skin in the most attractive of ways. That was what Janine had loved most about Sherlock — how much his skin looked like Irene’s. Hers was softer, though. Impossibly soft, like pure silk. Irene reached over the table to take her hand, and Janine let her. Their intertwined fingers almost felt shy in such a beautiful place. The sun shining bright over their heads, the tourists walking about, everything offered a sort of privacy that was not to be found in London, and suddenly Janine was immensely grateful. 

‘You look beautiful,’ Janine said, making Irene smile wider, looking almost innocent. Adorable. Lovely. _Hers_. 

‘You look absolutely stunning as well, darling. The sunlight does wonders to your skin. I wish to never go back to England again!’ Irene proclaimed, giggling at the end, which in turn only made Janine giggle along. 

‘If we can spend the rest of our lives sunbathing, eating the best cheeses, and drinking the best wines, I can’t see why we should return at all,’ Janine added, and Irene laughed on, happily. ‘I like seeing you happy like this.’ 

Irene fell silent, a soft look in her eyes, and she squeezes Janine’s hand. ‘Shall we take a walk?’ 

That was how they spent their days. Drinking gorgeous wines, eating wonderful food, bathing in sunlight, and making love under the stars. The place itself was nothing but ordinary, but as they strolled along the main street, hand linked, it felt like heaven on Earth. 

At some point, they reached a small park area near the monastery, filled with beautiful green trees, almost tropical-looking, and there were flowers everywhere. A veritable rainbow of flora surrounded them. Janine was pulled gently towards a tree, pressed her against it, and gone was the soft look. Irene had that predatory look in her eyes which never failed to make Janine’s knees weak. They inched closer and closer until their mouths met, tentatively at first, until Irene’s dominatrix side kicked in, and suddenly it was desperate, commanding, ferocious, magnificent. It felt almost dirty to do this next to a monastery, and that was even better. Janine groaned as their tongues met, as Irene bit her bottom lip, sucked it between hers, devoured her mouth with those red lips of hers that were the definition of sin. Irene was the devil, but being with her felt like Heaven, and Janine threw it all up in the air when Irene’s left hand started to lift the hem of her dress, cupping her thigh. 

‘Oh, love,’ Janine moaned, licking her away along Irene’s jaw, leaving her mark there, kissing and tasting the milky skin of her neck. It was Irene’s turn to moan, and that miraculous sound was nearly enough o push Janine over the edge, as ever. Irene’s right hand was on her hair, messing up the messy ponytail, though Janine couldn’t give a toss about that as her lover’s clever tongue played gently with her earlobes. 

Then for their mouths met again, feverish and wet and ever more desperate. Janine wanted out of those clothes. She wanted _Irene_ out of those clothes. 

And all too soon it stopped. Irene leant back with a smirk which made Janine groan. 

‘How about we take this back to our lovely little cottage?’ 

‘Not here?’ asked Janine, suddenly suspicious. Irene never passed a chance of challenging the social norms by taking her anywhere. Apparently today was not that day. Irene simply shrugged. 

‘I’m not in a very exhibitionist mood today. Besides, we could go get some more wine, some bread, perhaps some fruit, go back to the cottage and have some _fun_.’ The last bit was almost a purr, and Janine could not have agreed faster. 

They tried to make themselves as presentable as possible, then walked back to the village, where they stopped at the grocer’s to get some wine. Irene sent her off to get the wine and fruit saying she had something important to do, which earned her a fond eye-roll. 

She picked a nice _cabernet franc_ , got a loaf of French bread, and a roll of a lovely-looking Camembert that she had spotted the day before, then picked some plush red strawberries, some Red Delicious, and plump red grapes, took it all to the till and paid. Waiting for her outside was Irene, who was holding a beautiful bouquet of lilac peonies, nigellas, hydrangeas, and some more flowers Janine couldn’t recognise. It looked fresh and summery, so elegant and yet so… homely. Janine looked up at Irene’s face to see a loving smile on her lips. 

‘These are for you,’ she said quietly, handing the bouquet to Janine while taking the small bag of groceries from her hands. ‘As a thank you for the lovely company.’ 

Janine sniffed the flowers with a smile, then looked Irene in the eye. ‘Thank you, love.’ She leant in and pressed a chaste kiss on Irene’s lips. Another smile exchanged, they linked hands once more, and strolled back to their cottage, content.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear, I never thought I'd be writing a fanfic about Irene Adler of all people, yet here I am. I blame Bianca entirely. Either way, here it is. I like this ship, it's quite lovely isn't it? 
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think n.n Thanks for reading! 
> 
> And as per usual, feel free to contact me on tumblr either on my [personal blog](http://bagginswatson.tumblr.com), or the [writing blog](http://writingquill.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Cheers x


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